Monday, 8 October 2018

We Talk About Biblical Life Coaching

By Jeffrey Olson


We all know that when things get particularly religious, we get more than just a little bit uncomfortable. It could be because we do not believe the same faith as the next guy. Or maybe because some of us can get a little bit extreme in our beliefs and think that everyone just HAS to be on the same both as us. That is not cool, by the way. If we are not forcing you to believe in what WE believe in, why should you be doing the exact opposite? Respect the beliefs of other people and we will do the same to you. Regardless, if you are a Catholic and in need of some help with your life in the spiritual sense, you may need a Biblical Life Coaching CO.

Do not get us the wrong way. Like therapy, you do not have to be messed up to go get help. Sometimes you just have someone to remind you on little bits if life to get you going. In therapy, this is basically equal as doing a general cleaning. With your mind. It might be in the form of relaxing and taking a break or having someone to talk to.

The first waterfall we found was a gentle trickle over a mossy ledge. Open meadows stretched out on either bank. The water was not deep enough for a fish to hide in. The meadows were too flat to conceal effective traps like poison spikes, land mines, or trip wires that launched dynamite or rabid rodents from catapults.

Suddenly, the living room was tinged with kaleidoscopic light. I gazed outside at the well manicured lawn, the sculptured hedgerows, the garden topiaries. I wanted to pull off my sunglasses, break through the window, and go skipping merrily through Alfheim until the sun burned my eyes out.

It worked, more or less. My mind touched the cold panicked consciousness of a trout flopping a few inches away. I located an eel that had burrowed into the mud and was seriously considering biting Hearthstone in the foot. I touched the tiny minds of guppies whose entire thought process was Eek. Eek. Eek.

You have no idea how you embarrassed us by disappearing. There were rumors about you studying rune magic, of all things, consorting with Mimir and his riffraff, befriending a dwarf. Well, one afternoon, your mother was crossing the street in the village, on her way back from the country club.

The dream shifted. I saw Alex Fierro in her suite in Valhalla, throwing ceramic pots across the atrium. Loki stood in her bedroom, casually adjusting his paisley bow tie in the mirror as pots passed through him and smashed against the wall.

Hearthstone was listing slightly to port, but he managed to stay on his feet. He signed: One person stole gold, no consequences. Then he made my least favorite name sign, index finger and thumb pinched together at the side of his head, a combination of the letter L and the sign for devil, which fit our friend Loki just fine.

The change in Andvaris tone unnerved me even more than his change from grouper to dwarf. No more wailing or crying. He spoke with cold certainty, like a hangman explaining the mechanics of a noose.




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